


My heart is in the highlands

by Chelidona (Hobbity)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Highlands AU, Just in Scotland not Middle Earth, M/M, Moria never fell, There are still dwarves and elves and hobbits etc, feel-good story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7160342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbity/pseuds/Chelidona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fíli has been away at university in Edinburgh for four years before Thorin orders him home to attend Thorin's wedding. He is overjoyed to reconnect with his little cousin, Kíli.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My heart is in the highlands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Khim_Azaghal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khim_Azaghal/gifts).



> This was a very spontenous idea to write a little birthday story for Khim_Azhagal, because she seems to enjoy Scotland. I wrote this in one evening, so it is very simple, but hopefully cute :) it was inspired by Robert Burns' poem "My heart is in the Highlands", so this beautiful little poem prefaces the story.  
> Not quite modern AU, at an unspecified date in an alternative Scotland with all the races of Middle Earth and where you can marry any gender you want. No Balrogs in this AU mean that Khazad-dûm/Moria never fell, so this is the home of the MacDurins :)

My heart's in the Highlands,  
My heart is not here  
My heart's in the Highlands  
A-chasing the deer,  
A-chasing the wild deer  
And following the roe-  
My heart's in the Highlands,  
Wherever I go.

Farewell to the Highlands,  
Farewell to the North,  
The birth-place of valor,  
The country of worth!  
Wherever I wander,  
Wherever I rove,  
The hills of the Highlands  
For ever I love.

Farewell to the mountains  
High-covered with snow,  
Farewell to the straths  
And green valleys below,  
Farewell to the forests  
And wild hanging woods,  
Farewell to the torrents  
And loud-pouring floods!

My heart's in the Highlands,  
My heart is not here  
My heart's in the Highlands  
A-chasing the deer,  
A-chasing the wild deer  
And following the roe-  
My heart's in the Highlands,  
Wherever I go

(Robert Burns, 1789)

 

Fíli had spent the night sleeping on the ground in the wood near Lothlorien, wishing not for the first time that he’d found a travelling companion. The king of the MacDurins married, one would think that it was an event other dwarves wouldn’t want to miss, not even Lowlanders. But, as it turned out, Thorin was overdoing it as usual; he had ordered his nephew and heir home for a first celebration among the clan. The big festivities with delegations of other clans and eminent dwarves from the Lowlands would only take place two weeks later. So Fíli had the honour of travelling on his own two weeks earlier than the dean of the University of Edinburgh.

 

He got up early the next morning, demolished his last piece of bread and cheese and moved on. He was eager to get out of the forest. He was a dwarf; lush canopy and the smell of decomposing leaves were not comfortable for him. Halls of stone, craggy mountainsides, the clang of metal upon stone, the smell of moss and lichen, of stone and metal, those were his Highlands.

Fíli adjusted his kilt as he looked up the steep, familiar mountain in front of him. Ben Moria to elves and men, Ben Khazad-Dûm to the dwarves. He had been gone for too long. But now he was nearly back home.

The words of Robert Burns were engraved on his sgian-dubh: “My heart is in the highlands,/ my heart is not here/ My heart’s in the Highlands/ A-chasing the deer”.

Of course, nobody in the Highlands would dream of engraving the handle of something as mundane as a sgian-dubh. It was a sign of his distance from his homeland that he had felt the need to have the words engraved on his.

Whenever he took it out to cut some cheese or fruit, he was reminded of home. Of the wild-hanging woods, the torrents, the scraggy hills and mountains. Of the halls of Khazad-dûm.

Now he took the rein of his pony and it led up the path to the mountain kingdom of the MacDurins.

 

There had been an uproar when he had decided, as heir of the clan, that they would need to learn more about the ways of the Lowlanders, partake in their learning. And that he would lead by example and go to the University of Edinburgh to study. Old dwarves had accused him of leaving ways of old. But Fíli was nothing if not practical. The MacDurins of Khazad-dûm were still the most influential dwarf clan in the entire British Isles. Chieftains from Ireland sent letters seeking advice. But the times were changing and if they wanted to maintain the position of their clan, they needed to acknowledge that.

 

*** 

It was near lunchtime when he passed Loch Mirrow. On its shore, he spotted a MacDurin blue kilt on the ground and heard the splashing of water from the nearby mere. He’d known the sgian-dubh next to the kilt everywhere; he had carved the handle himself for his little cousin before he had left for Edinburgh.

“Kíli!” he shouted out, spotting his cousin’s mop of brown hair in the water. He jumped off the pony, just as Kíli turned towards him.

“Fíli!” Kíli beamed, still half-submerged in the cool pool. As he jumped out, Fíli had time to admire the fine shape Kíli had grown into. He was still skinny for a dwarf, but his youthful scrawny awkwardness had given way to defined muscles and hard edges.

As soon as Kíli had put his kilt on, he engulfed Fíli in a hug.

“Fíli!” he repeated. “You have come!”

“I have.” Fíli pushed away a little bit to get a good look at his cousin. In the years that he had been away, the younger dwarf had grown taller than him. He still had the large eyes that already distinguished him as a dwarfling. Hazel eyes that were now glittering with joy.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Not come for Thorin’s wedding?”

Fíli stared at him. True, he had not been home in four years. Two years ago he had followed several dwarves for a trip into England and the previous year, the summer had found him in Ireland. He had seen it as his duty to learn more about the world outside the Highlands. He thought his family understood. Apparently not.

“Well …” Kíli muttered, his smile fading. The younger dwarf looked away. “Ever since you’ve been gone … we haven’t heard much of you. And … well, Dain passed through here on his way back to the Iron Hills, and he said …”

“What did the MacGrór tell you?” Fíli growled. He liked his distant cousin well enough, but the dwarf was so traditional, he had wondered he had not exploded in Edinburgh.

“He said you have become a lowlander,” Kíli admitted, a small frown marring his perfect forehead. “He said … you had all but forgotten the Highlands.”

Fíli suppressed his anger. Instead, he put his arm lightly around his young cousin, trying to recreate some of their old camaraderie.

“They will tease me back in Khazad-dûm. But I tell you, I’ve never forgotten the Highlands. My heart has always been here.”

“A-chasing the deer?” Kíli continued with a laugh. And just like that, the familiar smile was back, the one Fíli was still convinced could light a dark mountain.

“My heart’s in the Highland, wherever I go,” he affirmed.

*

When they made it into the palace section of Khazad-dûm, it was late afternoon, and dwarves were bustling about, carrying tables towards the big halls. Fíli and Kíli were shoved out of the way more than once. Kíli told him that most of their family would be in the Great Hall so they fought their way there. As soon as they went inside, they were spotted.

“There’s our own Sassenach!” Dwalin bellowed his greeting loudly enough, for dwarves to actually stop their preparations and look a bit more carefully at the clumsy young ones getting in the way.

Fíli scowled at the clan’s war chieftain.

“I’ll show ye Sassenach!” he threatened, hand on his sword. Dwalin’s laugh echoed across the chamber.

“I’d like to see you try!”

He took three quick strides towards the young heir of the clan and pulled him into a bear hug.

“My lad, you’ve been sorely missed.”

It was a sentiment that appeared to be shared by many. Balin found him, and Bofur, and Bifur, and Oín, and Gloín, and Bombur bustled out of the kitchen as Dori, and Nori, and Ori approached. His father, Frerin, stood at the back, smirking as he watched the other dwarves crowd his son before Fíli finally made it to him. The firm grip on his shoulder, and the fierce pressure of Frerin’s forehead against his told Fíli better how much his father had missed him than any words could. Dis, Kíli’s mother, knocked him over the head for staying away so long, before she too hugged him and they all made their way to the council chamber, where Thorin was hiding with his fiancé.

The scandal when King Thorin MacDurin had announced his engagement to an English Hobbit, worse than a Sassenach dwarf even, had made waves even in Edinburgh. Fíli had been the unsuspecting matchmaker; he had sent on Professor Gandalf from Oxford and his hobbit travelling companion to Khazad-dûm. He had been defending Bilbo as a suitable spouse ever since the news came out .

If Thorin was overjoyed to see his heir, he didn’t show it. He just touched foreheads with Fíli briefly before ordering him to go and take off his travelling gear.

*

Kíli followed him to the chambers of the royal family

“Um …. There is one thing we need to ask of you …” he began, more hesitant than Fíli had ever seen him.

“What is the matter?” Fíli stopped, looking up at Kíli.

“I … after the feast we cannot expect the dwarves living by Hollin to return so they asked me to ask you if I might share your chamber for tomorrow night. My chamber has been offered to my father’s brother. You know, so we don’t have to bother with preparing all the guest chambers yet and my mother doesn’t want to tell her brother-in-law to go to a crammed hostel …”

“Sure,” Fíli smiled, averting his gaze. He’d be more than happy to spend time with Kíli. 

Before he’d gone to Edinburgh there seemed to be something developing between them, but Kíli had been so young then and so innocent, and Fíli too. And he could not wait with his education until he figured out what was going on.

Now, standing close enough to Kíli to feel the warmth radiating from his arm, his pulse quickened just at the thought of spending the night close to Kíli.

***

This was the last bit of private time he had with Kíli. A servant caught up with them and ordered Kíli back in the Great Hall to help. In the evening and the next day, before the festivities, they were busy greeting minor members of the Clan, who were invited, or he was enlisted by groups of dwarves to regale them with stories of the Lowlands, of England and of Ireland.

*

Finally, the time for the ceremony came. Just before it started, Professor Gandalf arrived from Lothlorien, promising magnificent fireworks that would tell the elves what a splendid feast they were missing (Gandalf didn’t phrase it like that). 

Wedding ceremonies among the MacDurins were short and simple, even for their king. Every dwarf knew that the real purpose of a wedding was the beer, the whiskey, and the food. And the dancing.

Fíli was sitting on his chair next to the empty thrones of Thorin and Bilbo. But he was not watching the newly wedded couple hop around on the dance floor. His eyes were fixed on his cousin. Kíli was achingly beautiful as he twirled around to the music. His kilt was flying as was his unbound hair, and he laughed along to the bagpipes, the fiddles and the bodhran. 

Fíli had travelled further than most dwarves of the clan, but he had never seen a sight as beautiful as Kíli dancing.

Especially when Kíli danced towards him, hands outstretched.

“Come on, Fíli, dance with us.”

Fíli had not planned to, but who could say no to Kíli? With a smile, he took his cousin's hand, and they did not let go of each other until the musicians packed their instruments early in the morning.

With an embarrassed little cough, Fíli finally dropped Kíli’s hand.

*

They were both dead tired as the trudged towards the royal chambers. Towards Fíli’s chamber. Too tired even to get rid of their shirts. Fíli didn’t question it, when Kíli collapsed on the bed next to him, instead of on the sack of straw servants had laid out for him. The bed was big enough. And he was not yet ready to be separated from Kíli’s warmth, from the mingled smells of Whiskey, sweat and just pure Kíli, a scent Fíli had always associated with joy, comfort, and home.

*

He awoke the next morning by a kick to his thigh, the tender area just below his groin. He scooted back, colliding with the wall and cursing.

“Sorry!” Once he could focus, he could see Kíli’s contrite face hovering in front of him. “I tried to …”

A blush spread over Kíli’s face as he stopped himself.

“You tried to …”

“Get out of your bed before you could wonder about it.”

Fíli straightened his back and rubbed the back of his head; he hoped it wouldn’t bruise.

“Kíli, I didn’t drink enough to forget getting into bed with you. We didn’t have time to drink, we danced all night, remember?”

“That’d explain why I’m so thirsty.”

Kíli took the opportunity to finally jump out of bed and fetched the pitcher of water at the other end of the room. Fíli frowned.

“Is it so distasteful? Do I smell foul?”

“What?” Kíli let the pitcher slide out of his hands as he turned around and cursed loudly when it splashed water underneath his bunched up kilt. Fíli rolled off the bed, laughing.

“Hilarious,” Kíli grumbled, glaring down at his cousin. “And for the record, you don’t smell foul.”

Fíli sobered, and scrambled up. “So what is it then?”

“Nothing … just … thinking you wouldn’t want to wake up crowded by me.”

“It’s better than nearly being kneed in the balls.”

Kíli winced. “Sorry.”

*

After sharing a late lunch with some more family members, they decided to disappear before anybody could enlist them for the last cleaning tasks. Instead, Kíli led Fíli through a small hallway, leading up to the top of the mountain. It opened to a ledge, looking over the Greenwood and Lothlorien, and the road leading to the Lowlands, invisible from here.

“I stood here often,” Kíli confessed. “I stood here when you left, telling myself I could still see you moving down the path and disappearing into the forest of Lothlorien. And later I came to look out to where you were, trying to feel a connection.”

“I looked towards the highlands every day,” Fíli admitted with a smile. “Thinking about everyone here, but particularly my father and you. I have never forgotten you,” Fíli swore, taking a firm grip on Kíli’s hand and words tumbling out of his mouth unbidden. “The memory of your sweet laughter and the many bruises you have given me has remained with me always.”

Kíli laughed brightly. “I could never forget our golden heir.” He leant down to rest his forehead gently against Fíli’s. “Never. Your memory lingers in every crevice here.”

Fíli held his breath, closing his eyes and feeling Kíli’s pulse. They didn’t seek more contact. Nor did they talk about it when they finally walked down and back to their family.

Kíli slept in his own bed again, at least until the big festivities. But whenever they could, they’d sneak in affectionate gestures. Pressing each other’s shoulders when they met for mealtimes. Briefly holding hands in corridors when they weren’t observed. Sharing their stories of the years since Fíli had left. Fíli told of the wonders he had seen, of the stuffiness of city-dwellers, of the dirt and smell in Edinburgh’s streets. Kíli told him about his archery, of striking up a friendship with an elf, a captain of the guard in Greenwood. Of Thorin’s anger and Tauriel’s skills, which she was happy to teach a dwarf.

***

It was only three days later when Fíli went to his father to fetch his mother’s engagement ring. Frerin did not seem to be surprised but teased his son before he let him go. 

Fíli took Kíli’s hand and led him up to the ledge again.

As soon as they were there, he let go of Kíli’s hand and fumbled with the little pouch containing the ring. Kíli observed his hands closely and gasped when Fíli pulled out the ring.

When he saw the surprise on Kíli’s face, Fíli’s insides clenched. He had mistaken his cousin; Kíli’s affections since he had been back had merely been those of an excited friend, not …

“YES!” Kíli’s joyous exclamation broke through Fíli’s thoughts. He tried to compose himself.

“I didn’t ask yet,” he teased, but he couldn’t bring his voice to be anything than relieved.

“I had dreamt you’d ask me before you left,” Kíli smiled. “I was so young …”

“You still are. We still are. And …” Fíli swallowed, feeling he should make some form of a proposal. “And I hope we will be young together for a while yet before we grow old together.”

“Oh yes.” Kíli put his fingers under Fíli’s chin, tilting his face up until Kíli could crush their lips together. They were surprisingly soft against Fíli’s hard mouth, a perfect contrast. It was their first kiss, and their noses clashed several times, but it was the best Fíli had ever felt. When they parted, they kept their foreheads close together, sharing their breath.

“But when will we marry?” Kíli suddenly said, interrupting the bliss Fili felt. “You will be gone after the festivities.” Kíli’s dark brows were slanted over his eyes, a picture of misery.

“For one more term, beloved.” Fíli pressed his forehead against Kíli’s, turning his head to kiss Kíli’s brow. “One more term in Edinburgh and I will return to stay.”

“Can you not take me with you? We could marry before we went. We can celebrate on our return.”

Fíli took a step backwards to look at Kíli. His darling Kíli, dressed in his blue kilt and a loose white shirt, that was always dirty. Hair long, wild and untamed, always tousled. His wild cousin. He could not imagine him in the orderly city of Edinburgh – everything about him screamed “teuchter.” Biting his lower lip, Fíli took Kíli’s hand.

“You’d fade there. It’s so different from the Highlands, so different from Khazad-dûm ….”

“I’d endure anything for you,” Kíli swore.

“I know. I know.”

It was a pleasant picture to have Kíli to come back to when he was done with his lectures. And it would do Kíli, as one of the clan’s future leaders, good to learn more about the Lowlands. But Fíli was also afraid that Kíli would be unhappy, that his wild cousin would change. He let his finger trail the bristles on Kíli’s jaw.

“If you are determined to go, I cannot stop you.”

“Don’t you want me to come with you?”

How to explain? Fíli pulled him closer. “I missed you before, and I’d miss you every day if I went alone now,” he swore. “But my chief desire is to see you happy.”

“I am happy with you. Everywhere.”

They embraced on the ledge, not talking any longer. Before they could properly talk about wedding dates, they would have to inform their family.

*

Fíli went to their uncle alone to tell him about the engagement. Thorin frowned when Fíli had disclosed his news.

“My heir marrying another man. I had feared so.”

“You have just married Bilbo,” Fíli pointed out.

“Aye, and I have a brother and two nephews to follow me. Those nephews marrying each other precludes more heirs.”

“Yes.” Fíli nodded. “I have thought about that.”

Every sleepless night in Edinburgh. “Traditionally, the kingship would pass to the closest male relative, but that would be King Dain MacGrór of the Iron Hills.”

“We cannot have a MacGrór ruling both Khazad-dûm and the Iron Hills!” Thorin protested immediately.

“No,” Fíli agreed. “But it is also customary for wedded dwarves who cannot conceive to appoint an heir. It has been many centuries since this last happened in the royal succession, but it is allowed.”

“Aye.” Thorin looked at Fíli, then the radiant smile bloomed on his face, the one only a few were privileged to see. “I am sure that you will be very happy together. And I am glad that even down in the Lowlands you still thought about your future role.”

“Thorin … that IS the reason why I went down there. As I told you several times.” He could not keep the frustration out of his voice. To his relief, Thorin kept smiling. 

“Bilbo is slowly convincing me that you were right.”

“You married a wise man.”

“I know. But don’t tell him, he’s sassy enough.”

Fíli was still laughing when Thorin got up and hugged him for the first time in years.

***

Thorin had ordered the most prominent members of the clan to dinner the following day to announce the engagement. It was met with great acclaim, especially once Fíli announced that he would soon start looking for a young dwarf to become his own heir (Gloín tried not so subtly to change places with Gímli so his son would be closer to the heir). 

As everyone was drinking to their health, Fíli looked to Kíli. His heart had always been in the highlands. Not only with the hills, with the torrents, with the stone. It had been right there in the doe-eyes of his cousin. And he would take part of his home, his Highlands with him to Edinburgh, with his Kíli.

**Author's Note:**

> Sgian-dubh are single-edged knives that are part of the traditional Scottish Highland Dress. It's tugged in a little sheath inside the kilt-hose, on the outside of the leg of the dominant hand (yes I'm a writer, I can explain things beautifully). I may or may not have recently met a Scotsman who proudly showed me his sgian-dubh with the lines by Robert Burns on it :)


End file.
